Bro Strider ==> Die
Your name is D- Strider and you’re dying.
The overwhelming pain that ripped through your body put you into shock long ago. You can barely feel a thing. Your body is lost to you, completely disconnected from your mind. You could be falling. You could be bent into impossible shapes. You could be simply resting on your back in the grass. You can’t tell, save for the few glimmers of pain twitching through your muscles.
The battle is a blur to you now. Your body moved faster than you could keep up with. Closer to a robot with one function than an actual person. The only thing you can recall was a blaring siren of a command over and over and over again.
Fight. Kill. Win. Fight. Kill. Win. Fight. Kill. Win.
When Dave showed up, he wasn't quite Dave. He was painted a brilliant shining orange and had wings like an angel. This Dave had a dedication and melancholy to him that you've never seen in Dave before. You recall his voice, screaming at you from his side of the battle.
Then you hit the ground.
The moment you lost your ability to fight was the moment you lost all relevance. Cal is gone. Your head is silent for the first time in…. Ever.
Everything within the past year is a blur. As the stars above pity you in your slow march to death, it dawns on you that your glasses have been stolen. Your hat is gone from your head. You're looking at the sky with your own eyes.
It's beautiful.
The shock wears down as you draw your final breaths. Your sword pinning your body to the ground is a dick move, but you're actually grateful for it. You would have gotten up if it wasn't there. You would have continued your robotic level of dedication to this one task. Fight.
You're so tired of fighting.
That's all you've ever done. It's all you gave to your kid. It's the only thing you could think of to justify your existence. The puppets never mattered. The adult industry never mattered. Your video games, magazine subscriptions, neighbors, hobbies, and turntables never mattered.
You wonder if Dave will miss you. You hope he doesn't. You hope he forgets you and lives on out of spite, or something similar. But selfishly you hope he will.
Tears well up in your eyes.
You wish you were better. But that's a thing that comes up often in your tale of woe and puppets. You found yourself wishing for so many things. Wishing you were a better person, however, doesn't mean a god damn thing. Instead of wishing, this time, you're going to hope. That's what you were missing, isn't it? You hope with everything you have left that Dave will make it through this hellscape of a game.
And then you die.
